


miss missing you

by luxxurycar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU where the apocalypse doesn't happen, Agnes and Hazel are both safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24466468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxxurycar/pseuds/luxxurycar
Summary: After the apocalypse doesn't happen, Hazel has some time to think about things.
Relationships: Cha Cha/Hazel, Cha-Cha & Hazel (Umbrella Academy)
Kudos: 10





	miss missing you

He doesn’t sleep during the drive across the country. At first, he tells himself it’s because, well,  _ someone _ has to keep watch, and he’s used to it.  _ You’re dead- _ the words ring in his ears when he thinks about it for too long; he has to shake his head to get them out. She’s coming for them, he knows.  _ The _ world didn’t end, but  _ his _ surely will. Only, she doesn’t. 

Weeks pass. They reach Oregon at last, having taken a circuitous route and stayed for days in various towns and cities across the country. It’s odd, traveling like this. Hazel can’t remember the last time he actually saw a landmark before now, or stayed someplace because he  _ wanted _ to. It’s nice, too, of course, but he still doesn’t sleep. Instead, he lays awake, listening to Agnes’ soft, slow breathing beside him as the light in the hotel room shifts soft and blurry from the traffic outside. Cha Cha's threats don’t ring in his ears anymore. Probably this is a good thing, he tries to reassure himself. She’s not coming, the world didn’t end, and he actually has a chance at a normal, mundane,  _ simple _ life. He closes his eyes. 

_ Soft noise. Dark eyes, huge in the dim lighting. A whimper-a flinch, as his own hand reaches out-a gasp. “Hazel-”  _

He opens his eyes. It’s getting harder to remember why he’d done it. Taped her mouth, trapped her. He remembers the feeling of panic, the desperate need to be somewhere else,  _ anywhere _ else. It was a dirty trick, the kind they’d used on targets all the time. He’d half hoped she wouldn’t fall for it, doesn’t know what he’d have done if she hadn’t. 

There are words, too, half remembered.  _ We’ve been working together for a long long time- _ He sees his own face, in the half light of a dim motel bathroom. She  _ had _ tried to kill him, he reminds himself. But then, hadn’t he thought about it too? He remembers the weight of the revolver in his hand, the grim certainty of it.  _ Terminate Cha Cha. _ He remembers his immediate reaction to the words; the recoil, the disbelief. Rereading them:  _ terminate Cha Cha. _ The instant, half reflexive  _ no _ caught in his throat, as if the Handler could have heard him if he only said it aloud. Then, the quieter voice:  _ but you know what will happen if you don’t. _

He hadn’t wondered, then, if her reaction had been the same. He’d known- _ thought  _ he’d known-that the job came first to her. He wonders now, though-whether her breath had caught in her chest like his, whether her eyes had widened, if the word  _ no _ had crossed her mind, formed on her lips; if she’d thought, through a half laugh,  _ so this is it, this is how it ends _ . Or, he thinks, maybe none of that had happened. Maybe she’d read the words- _ terminate Hazel _ -and thought,  _ well, I’ve done worse _ . Maybe she’d crumpled the paper in her fist and tossed it away in favor of her gun. He doesn’t know; will probably never know, now-hadn’t thought to ask, at the time.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? She  _ didn’t _ kill him. He was pretty sure then, and he’s pretty sure now, that that fruitless drive into the forest had been for only one reason. Why he’d walked back out of the trees, Cha Cha a few steps behind him, is still a mystery. He hadn’t thought to ask her about that, either, his mind too full of  _ I’m in love _ and  _ I know this will be hard for you to accept _ . 

He’d been foolish, obviously.  _ Stupid _ , he hears in her voice, practically sees the quirk of her mouth as she says the word. That happens sometimes, even now, though it’s grown more infrequent; he hears his thoughts in her voice, like she’s reached right into him and made herself comfortable. 

He closes his eyes. And there she is, like a movie on the backs of his eyelids. Sun slanting across the dash, turning the world around them golden. He looks over at her, watches her put her feet up, cross her legs at the ankles. The window’s open, sending a breeze across her face to flutter the ends of her hair; it’s summer, the air is warm and alive with possibilities. Sometimes she’s singing, her mouth moving to the tune of a song he never quite manages to catch. Other times she’s silent, still except for the wind in her hair and the slightest movement of her fingers on the center console, absently tapping out a rhythm. He wants to grab her hand, pull her through the shimmering border between memory and reality.  _ Stay with me, _ he tries to say.  _ I’m sorry _ . But she never looks at him. 


End file.
